The Stud Palace by Cairo Page B

finger or rim his asshole while I suck his dick. He says, “That’s some gay shit.”But it’s what I want to do, to my man, because it turns me on. But he doesn’t see it as that. And on top of all that, he doesn’t like to fuck me in the ass, either. Again, “That’s some homo shit,” he insists. “Ain’t no real man thinking about fucking his woman in the ass unless he’s on some down-low shit! So stop askin’ me to do some nasty shit like that. What, you want some fag fucking you?”
    And the list of what he won’t do goes on . . .
    I cringe at the thought of Kareem being so damn closed-minded and one-dimensional when it comes to sex. I try to recall if he’s always been this way. Boring. Yes, I’m certain he has. But I didn’t take notice until recently. It never really mattered . . . well, it did, but not as much—until now . When all of my suppressed lesbian desires found their way to the surface and started consuming me.
    Pump, pump, pump!
    Choo-choo!
    “Aaah, shit, baby . . . goddamn . . . shit’s so good. Mmmph . . . tell Daddy how you like it . . .”
    Pump, pump, pump!
    Choo-choo!
    “Mmmmm . . . motherfuckin’ pussy so wet; so tight . . .”
    “Will you shut. The. Fuck. Up! You’ve said this shit already!” I hear myself screaming at the top of my lungs. Instead I grunt. And groan. And this only encourages him to pound harder, causing the headboard to slap mercilessly against the wall. I start counting in my head. One, two, three, four . . .
    I remind myself that Kareem is a good man. He’s hard-working. Articulate. He’s good-looking . . . no scratch that. He’s fine as hell in all of his chocolate glory! He has a beautiful body and a nice, thick, smooth chocolate dick to match. He’s never beaten me, or disrespected me. And, as far as I know, he hasn’t fucked anyone else. He’s thoughtful and generous with his time and money. But . . .
    Five, six, seven . . .
    “Oooh, yesss . . . fuck me with that big dick, baby . . .”
    Usually talking dirty gets him off quick, but today he’s determined to make sure I get mine. And I will, not because of him though. It is my imagination that will cause my pussy to spasm and explode. In my mind’s eye, I am being fucked and made love to, simultaneously—if that‘s even possible—by another woman.
    Eight, nine, ten . . .
    My female lover is faceless. But her skin is like smooth, dark chocolate wrapped around a toned, well-defined frame. She is not muscular, not manly. Not butch. No, definitely not! She is feminine and pretty, yet—at first glance—traces of masculinity cause one to pause to wonder her sex. Androgynous, that’s what she is. Sexy and alluring.
    In my mind’s eye, I am back on my knees, wiggling my perfectly-shaped apple-bottom ass back and forth, clenching my pussy and ass as my lover’s tongue caresses my crack in slow, wet licks. “Ohgod, yes,” I push out in a deep, hot, sensuous purr. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme . . .”
    Eleven, twelve, thirteen . . .
    My lover and I have changed positions again. I am back on my stomach. I imagine Kareem’s thick, black dick being replaced by delicate fingers. One finger, then two, then three plunge deep into my pussy. I am so wet. Each time my imaginary lover pumps into my wetness with her hand, my pussy makes a delicious, slurping sound. Her knuckles slap against my cunt juices as it splashes out. She fucks my pussy as hard as she can, leaning forward and slipping her tongue between my parted cherry-glossed lips. I have never kissed a woman on the mouth before, let alone having her tongue in my mouth. But I imagine it being a hot, hungry, sweet-tasting kiss. I moan again. Her soft lips caress my skin as she kisses her way down my neck, leaving a trail of wet desire—and an even wetter, more urgent need, between my thighs.
    Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen . . .
    My eyes snap open as Kareem practically yanks his cum-slicked dick out of